


String A Thought

by JustAboveWater



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Bad Sex, Fuckbuddies, Put in his place, Soft Ransom Drysdale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAboveWater/pseuds/JustAboveWater
Summary: Ransom isn’t giving it like he usually does. Things have to change.Based off “Only the help calls me Hugh”
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor)/Original Female Character(s), Chris Evans (Actor)/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/Original Female Character(s), Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	String A Thought

You and Ransom have been fuckbuddies for a little while. The sex is mostly good. Actually it’s definitely fantastic. Except when it’s not.

Right now, you should be focusing on his breathe on your neck, your heels resting on his gorgeous ass or that impeccable stretch between your thighs. But you can’t.

Ransom’s thrusting hard, methodically. Eyes unfocused like he’s reciting football stats. Hands wrapped around your waist, but he feels incredibly distance. Panting like a dog in your ear. He’s not quite seeing you. 

What’s worse is, you know when it’s good. It’s spectacular. He’s attentive, worshipping. Hands everywhere and in all the right places. Your eyes watery and mouth gaping. Until you can’t think straight. Throat hoarse and muscles sore. He knows it’s his mission to take care of you between the obligatory ‘you up?’ text until your toes curl.

This moment leaves you wondering, what’s the point in a dick appointment when the dicks not bomb?

The fact you have enough brain cells to string a thought together right now is beyond tragic and unacceptable. You’ve had enough. 

Nails that should be pressed into his muscular back instead reach over to pull on his expensively soft hair. He pulls up with a scowl, mouth twisted, still concentrating on thrusting like he’s Presley, or an over-eager frat bro or some shit.

You give him a look that’s less than impressed. Wrap a hand lightly around his throat. You can feel him swallow in the palm of your hand. And doesn’t that feel good.

You whisper in his ear “Hurry up and cum, Hugh”

Something in his eyes break. His hands twitch on your hip and his back softly shudders. Your bored eyes are pinned on his face and thumb lightly presses against his adam apple. That jaw clenches. Perfect.

He roughly grabs your leg and twists just so to get a better angle. His thrusts become deep and the pace fast. You think to yourself “Where the fuck was this even 5 minutes ago?”

Unbelievably he cuts the silent crap, no pseudo masculine grunts, he makes all these soft groans like he’s finally present. As if he can’t help himself. And he can’t. Watching his face turn a delicious shade of red, bottom lip pouting - you pull sharply on his hair.

He lets go. 

Cums deep into you. His hips twitching. Mouth can’t bring itself to close. One loud strangled groan. Then soft little “uhs” escape. The tense strings finally cut. His sweaty forehead rests on your shoulder. Thumbs stroking your waist.

You don’t make a sound. Moaning for men who haven’t made you come has never been on your agenda. And it won’t start with Drysdale.

Hesitant whether to be pleased by how well he listened because it’s in direct contract to how your still aching. You let go of his hair wrapped around your fingers. Smooth it down. Then gently push and wiggle until his heavy body is off you. He lays on his front, arms wrapped around his pillow and turns his head to look at you whilst you give a blank stare to the ceiling.

He’s cautious in the quiet of his bedroom. Despite feeling relaxed and heavily exhausted; his usual post-sex smirk is currently out of office. The floor-to-ceiling windows and the one-sided orgasm provide an incredibly exposing feeling. Ransom’s back in high school, like his nut in his chinos after a hot make out session, then been sent to the principals office. Undecided on extremely hot or humiliating, Ransom avoids the issue altogether.

“Why’d you call me Hugh? Only-“

“Only the help calls you Hugh. I know.”

Like the petulant boy he is, he huffs, “I don’t like it.”

You slowly turn to him exasperated, lips pursed, eyesbrows raised. Grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger. Tightly.

“Then don’t make fucking you feel like a job”

Ransom gets to work.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> I’d really appreciate any feedback, spot typos or guidance (wth do I tag this?). A <3, a mark out of 10, I don’t care, I’m greedy af.
> 
> Hate when people do this but... “Hi I’m JAW, long time reader, first time writer”  
> Haven’t written creatively in ages and never written smut.
> 
> The dialogue sparked it all off. This took a different turn than I originally had it mind. Maybe a part 2...?
> 
> This is as long as the fic so I’ll stop. 💜


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